In the desert town of Ahm Hamu, there are many dark and twisted things. The street sellers vend Genie's lamps, giving the willingly, and unwillingly, access to more demonic magic than most Warlocks will ever experience. They say that the lamps are just lamps, that the Genie's were always there and that the Genie's were somehow created already inside a lamp. They lie.
The tailors sew bugs that eat cloth into your clothes so you must come to repair them. They blame the weather and in the shadows covert with corrupt druids who maintain this truth to the wider world. In exchange this circle lives lavishly in the only nearby fresh water pools, secretly polluting and drying up all the surrounding ones for miles to encourage these deals of survival.
The cooks discover meat from sources that nobody has heard of, and buy from farms that don't exist. Nobody in town has any pets except the hunter at the end. Shining silver wind chimes and black metal twisted into runic shapes outline his wooden shack, his dog sitting on the porch. A pile of small metal clusters, maybe a cherry in width, sit next to a rocking chair.
Nobody can be trusted, everyone is a criminal, and yet it has been this way for years. While the druids have definitely made it worse, the tailors sewed bugs and the sellers vended lamps long before the other pools dried up. The cooks have long found food from nowhere, and the old hunter has defended his dogs since his father and his father did.
To here you have been summoned, to here you have arrived.
You walk up to the Hunter's Cottage, passed the nonsense in the market. The dog wags its tail, then roams inside. A set of boots hits wooden floor boards, and a grizzled man steps through the doorway. Shirt, pants, and, socks, taut and tan linen. Hat, vest, and chaps, nice brown leather.
His belt and boots appear to be an even finer skin, with a slight red tinge. In a guff tone, he whispers with care for the volume and apathy for the content,
"I'll be with you in one moment, gotta drain the lizard."
He walks forward and left, steps off his porch behind his house, and you all hear the sound of liquid hitting dirt.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Marchosias begrudgingly felt some kinship with this Hunter he had been summoned to meet. There was a rugged simplicity to how he lived that was admirable, and uncouthness did not make one a bad person. While he waits, Marchosias inspects the esoteric runes, trying not to think too much about how the tone of the Hunter's boots was awfully close to that of his own skin.
He was not alone, he knew. But he was not one for icebreakers.
((OOC: Marchosias will inspect the runes to try and glean their meaning and purpose. Also curious if he could confirm what he already suspects about the boots and belt, other than them being marvelously coordinated. If necessary, here's an Investigation/Arcana/Religion check: 23. Assuming Hunter's Bane applies here.))
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Onyx looked up with surprise as he approached the Hunter's Cottage. It appeared that someone else had already arrived? "Well, this should be interesting!" he thought to himself, already wondering what sort of adventurer he was about to meet.
Arbon trudges up to the Hunter's Cottage, seeing a small group growing as other's have answered the summons. "Good day to the two of you," he beams a wide smile to Onyx and Marchosias as he walks up beside them, "I'm Arbon. Arbon Warriver. You too received a summons? Haha, it will be good to see some adventure." He breathes in deeply, wrinkling up his nose as he realises the smell - either from the hunter relieving himself or the town itself, he's not sure, "It's a little, uh... fresh around here, no?"
Arbon is clad in chain mail armour. A shield at his side, a mace on his back and a light hammer hangs from his belt. His clothes are predominantly plain, except for some flourishes of whites, yellows, and oranges - the colours of heated metal in the forge - that appear here and there on his clothing and armour. An emblem, that looks like an anvil and hammer, is emblazoned on his shield. His muscular build is slightly tanned from his time at the forge.
Onyx smiled back and nodded. "Hello! Looks like it'll be an interesting party heading in, yes?" He glanced over at the tiefling; the warlock was unsure of where the half-demon's skills lay, but was curious enough about them. Turning back to Arbon, he asked, "You must be a cleric, yes? You look like a cleric. Guess you'll be trying to keep the lot of us alive, then? Not a task I'd envy, ha!"
He patted the various scraps of paper stuffed into the side of his cloak, its dark purple matching well with the tan clothing and leather armor he wore. "You can call me Onyx, by the way. And I may look like a wizard," he admitted, "but that's just my research background showing. I'm not all that handy. No, I'm just a warlock with access to a bit of magic. But hey, if need be, I can bore any demons to death with a lecture on recent archeological findings!" He smiled proudly, almost as if he were serious.
"Haha lecture away, my bookish new friend!" Arbon gives Onyx a friendly slap on the back, perhaps just a little too hard. "Tis true Onyx, I'm a cleric, but like you, my looks can be deceiving. I was a knight in a previous life, only taken up the mantle of Gond recently. So a healer I am, but only just learning and not well versed. I'm more a protector," he taps his knuckles on his shield, "I like to keep the enemy's attention on me. More glorious stories to tell at taverns." He laughs heartily and turns to the tiefling.
"So, quiet one, I hope you don't know our host's boots," once again laughing and slapping Marchosias on the back.
He is a half orc with the frame of a muscular human but his face clearly shows that he has orc blood running through his vains. His hair tied together in short ponytail to keep it out of his face if he would move wildly. His appearance a bit gruff and unshaven. His face and body still halfcovered in a red warpaint, some of it rubbed off already. On his body he does not even wear a shirt, only a leather strap from the left side of his belt crossing over to his right shoulder still showing the blade of a large axe on his back and the tip of a spear peeking out on the left side of his waist. His pants a simple leather with simple shoes beneath it.
After Arbon is done speaking Grahl replies to his words Protector, hmm Grahl protector too. He says with a grin. Dead enemy no attack. Best protectionhehe. he cuckles
Grahl is late, was .. delayed. He looks down to his belt as he says this. On his belt he has a few small bags but hanging from his belt is a small string. The string loops through his belt and a pair of pointy ears that dangle in the air as he walks.
Chazrael arrives as the others are speaking. He is a stout halfling donned in leathers with a shortbow and arrow-filled quiver over his shoulders. His blue eyes glance between everyone as he twitches his brown moustache, which matches his high-and-tight haircut. "Gentleman, I am Chazrael. You don't need to know my last name. I look forward to killing stuff with you."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"Hmm," smiled Onyx as he appraised the newcomers. "I think I like our odds. Greetings, fellows; I am Onyx."
Glancing at the somewhat-gaudy large gold ring on his right index finger, he quickly continued, "I admit, it may seem a strange name, but my patron bestowed it on me, and I'm obligated to use it. At least on official business." Another smile gave the impression he wasn't exactly disappointed in the alias.
He then thumbed toward the tiefling. "This one doesn't speak much. Haven't got his name yet." Turning to address Marchosias, he asked, "So, saw you examining those runes pretty closely. They say anything interesting?"
"Go screw yourself you filthy son of a eight legged two headed mistake."
Marchosias growls to Onyx, his voice surprisingly smooth despite his haggard appearance. The tiefling is a young man, clean, but haggard-looking. His face is gaunt, his clothes simple and showing a little bit of wear. His face bears a full beard, pointed and once well-kept but now starting to look a little rough as well. His only combat equipment appears to be some leather armor, a tarnished rapier, and a crossbow.
"That is more or less what they say. But sure, ask the tiefling what the demon runes say. Of course he can read demon. The name is Marchosias, or Marquis if you're lazy. I am a warrior, of sorts."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
"True, my barbaric friend. A dead enemy is definitely the best, however I've found from experience that some don't fall so quick. But I look forward to fighting at your side though," Arbon looks at the ears dangling at his belt, "Perhaps we can add to your gruesome collection of trophies haha."
Arbon turns to Chazrael. "Short and to the point, both in nature and stature." Arbon lets out another laugh then stops suddenly, "Apologies if I've caused offence halfling. I'm keen to see how sharp you are with that bow. Welcome."
"Haha you are a funny one Marchosias." Arbon pauses for a moment, a concerned expression crossing his face, "I hope I said that right. I look forward to seeing how you handle that crossbow and your needle of a sword."
The hunter walks back adjusting his belt and looks you all over,
"My my, been a day and a half since the circus came to town. How did you all show up here in the time it took me to take a leak?"
He chuckles and waves off the flurry of pending responses,
"I'm just yanking your chain, c'mon, let's go."
He grabs a handful of the stacked metal and a strange dark brown wooden stick with silver inlay, stuffing the chunks in his pocket. He waves to his dog who stayed inside then walks across the street.
There's a vendor trying to looking busy. The last in the line of tailors, cooks and the like, hes a little out of place considering the distance. The market isn't too far, but its a decent walk form the next merchant.
He's a gnome, a wirey black haired individual with beady green eyes. He's suspicious of the hunter and backs away from his stall into the wall behind him in fear. The hunter walks behind the small wooden counter filled with various trinkets and metalwork.
"You know, why even bother? You'd think you'd get tired."
The gnome tries to spit at him, and the hunter kicks him hard across the face spitting blood into the dirty road a second later.
The gnome looks back in firey rage and curses at him in abyssal,
"Rbisywbgso---!!"
An explosive blast leaves the silver stick and the small copycat demon becomes a smear.
Onyx's eyes widened as he let out a low whistle, folding his hands in front of him, his quarterstaff in the crook of his elbow, as he rolled onto the heels of his feet for a second. "So it's going to be THAT kind of mission, eh?"
For whatever reason, he then whipped out a piece of parchment and jotted down some sort of note, before waving the paper dry and stuffing it back into his cloak pocket.
Chazrael chuckles some more. "No offense taken. Also if someone needs to read demonic runes or language, I too can speak abyssal." He stops at the gnome's cursing. "That poor kitty."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Marchosias arches an eyebrow at the sudden violence. It was such a humble disguise - a random individual doing unassuming work. Why would a demon pretend to be such a wretched creature instead of something in power, something more likable?
He didn't understand the chaotic creatures. There was little reason to their actions.
Almost instinctively, he kneels in the dusty road and swipes a finger through the demon residue. Sticking his finger in his mouth, he grimaces. Its bitter, smoky, and probably toxic . . . but there's a part of him that could get used to the taste. He looks up at the others expectantly - there seemed to be much more work to do.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Responding to Arbon Ears not trophy! Ears.. As he intends to explain the hunter approaches and begins to speak so Grahl stops to try and hear why they have come.
He crosses his arms in front of him as the hunter walks to the merchant. Wondering why a warrior such as Grahl would be summoned if his troubles are with mere merchants.
Watching the display and seeing the creature (i assume) change back to its demon form on death for at least the parts that remain. A shocked expression comes over Grahls face as he has not seen shapechangers before.
He will follow Marchosias as he goes to taste the residue. Having made a long journey without having had time to eat Grahl has become hungry so he shrugs at the sight and assumes the creature can be eaten. The goo and bodyparts remaining remind him of spider soup an old friend used to make. His mouth waters at the idea. When Marchosias looks back at us Grahl assumes it an invitation to come and try and he steps forward doing the same as Marchosias crouching and tasting a finger swipe from the residue.
He quickly gets up and spits on the ground next to him Bah! This bad taste. He looks angry at Marchosias then turns to walk a few steps away again while grunting and mumbling Tiefling not know good food.
Calming down again after a few moments he looks to the hunter. Why you summon us? This creature not strong. Not realising the creature was probably a spy of sorts for a greater foe.
Onyx watched with fascination as Marchosias, then Grahl tasted the remains of the demon. He cocked his head curiously when Grahl declared it unfit to eat, then suddenly leaned on his quarterstaff, looked down and held his chin in his hand, as if thinking something over. Apparently unable to come to a quick conclusion, he shrugged to himself, then turned to the hunter as Grahl addressed him. This time both hands held onto his simply-carved staff as he leaned lightly on it, awaiting a response.
"Even for me, that's a new one. Around here, I wouldn't recommend eating anything that doesn't grow in the dirt, and even then I'd wash it twice."
He walks through the puddle, passed his cottage, and onto the trail leading out of town. He motions for you to follow and assuming you do, he walks off without turning around.
Looking around, there's a dead demon, useless trinkets, shady vendors, a sleeping dog, and, an unwelcoming house with obscene metal graffiti, tacky metal wind chimes and no windows.
"What a place to be, just another day in heaven."
The hunter raises his hands yelling from the trail once again without turning around.
Without thinking much of it, the warlock simply smiles and asks, "Shall we?" as he follows after the hunter, using his quarterstaff as a walking stick.
In the desert town of Ahm Hamu, there are many dark and twisted things. The street sellers vend Genie's lamps, giving the willingly, and unwillingly, access to more demonic magic than most Warlocks will ever experience. They say that the lamps are just lamps, that the Genie's were always there and that the Genie's were somehow created already inside a lamp. They lie.
The tailors sew bugs that eat cloth into your clothes so you must come to repair them. They blame the weather and in the shadows covert with corrupt druids who maintain this truth to the wider world. In exchange this circle lives lavishly in the only nearby fresh water pools, secretly polluting and drying up all the surrounding ones for miles to encourage these deals of survival.
The cooks discover meat from sources that nobody has heard of, and buy from farms that don't exist. Nobody in town has any pets except the hunter at the end. Shining silver wind chimes and black metal twisted into runic shapes outline his wooden shack, his dog sitting on the porch. A pile of small metal clusters, maybe a cherry in width, sit next to a rocking chair.
Nobody can be trusted, everyone is a criminal, and yet it has been this way for years. While the druids have definitely made it worse, the tailors sewed bugs and the sellers vended lamps long before the other pools dried up. The cooks have long found food from nowhere, and the old hunter has defended his dogs since his father and his father did.
To here you have been summoned, to here you have arrived.
You walk up to the Hunter's Cottage, passed the nonsense in the market. The dog wags its tail, then roams inside. A set of boots hits wooden floor boards, and a grizzled man steps through the doorway. Shirt, pants, and, socks, taut and tan linen. Hat, vest, and chaps, nice brown leather.
His belt and boots appear to be an even finer skin, with a slight red tinge. In a guff tone, he whispers with care for the volume and apathy for the content,
"I'll be with you in one moment, gotta drain the lizard."
He walks forward and left, steps off his porch behind his house, and you all hear the sound of liquid hitting dirt.
Marchosias begrudgingly felt some kinship with this Hunter he had been summoned to meet. There was a rugged simplicity to how he lived that was admirable, and uncouthness did not make one a bad person. While he waits, Marchosias inspects the esoteric runes, trying not to think too much about how the tone of the Hunter's boots was awfully close to that of his own skin.
He was not alone, he knew. But he was not one for icebreakers.
((OOC: Marchosias will inspect the runes to try and glean their meaning and purpose. Also curious if he could confirm what he already suspects about the boots and belt, other than them being marvelously coordinated. If necessary, here's an Investigation/Arcana/Religion check: 23. Assuming Hunter's Bane applies here.))
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Onyx looked up with surprise as he approached the Hunter's Cottage. It appeared that someone else had already arrived? "Well, this should be interesting!" he thought to himself, already wondering what sort of adventurer he was about to meet.
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf
Arbon trudges up to the Hunter's Cottage, seeing a small group growing as other's have answered the summons. "Good day to the two of you," he beams a wide smile to Onyx and Marchosias as he walks up beside them, "I'm Arbon. Arbon Warriver. You too received a summons? Haha, it will be good to see some adventure." He breathes in deeply, wrinkling up his nose as he realises the smell - either from the hunter relieving himself or the town itself, he's not sure, "It's a little, uh... fresh around here, no?"
Arbon is clad in chain mail armour. A shield at his side, a mace on his back and a light hammer hangs from his belt. His clothes are predominantly plain, except for some flourishes of whites, yellows, and oranges - the colours of heated metal in the forge - that appear here and there on his clothing and armour. An emblem, that looks like an anvil and hammer, is emblazoned on his shield. His muscular build is slightly tanned from his time at the forge.
Onyx smiled back and nodded. "Hello! Looks like it'll be an interesting party heading in, yes?" He glanced over at the tiefling; the warlock was unsure of where the half-demon's skills lay, but was curious enough about them. Turning back to Arbon, he asked, "You must be a cleric, yes? You look like a cleric. Guess you'll be trying to keep the lot of us alive, then? Not a task I'd envy, ha!"
He patted the various scraps of paper stuffed into the side of his cloak, its dark purple matching well with the tan clothing and leather armor he wore. "You can call me Onyx, by the way. And I may look like a wizard," he admitted, "but that's just my research background showing. I'm not all that handy. No, I'm just a warlock with access to a bit of magic. But hey, if need be, I can bore any demons to death with a lecture on recent archeological findings!" He smiled proudly, almost as if he were serious.
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf
"Haha lecture away, my bookish new friend!" Arbon gives Onyx a friendly slap on the back, perhaps just a little too hard. "Tis true Onyx, I'm a cleric, but like you, my looks can be deceiving. I was a knight in a previous life, only taken up the mantle of Gond recently. So a healer I am, but only just learning and not well versed. I'm more a protector," he taps his knuckles on his shield, "I like to keep the enemy's attention on me. More glorious stories to tell at taverns." He laughs heartily and turns to the tiefling.
"So, quiet one, I hope you don't know our host's boots," once again laughing and slapping Marchosias on the back.
Marchosias interprets the metallic symbols,
There are two sets of markings in the black metal. The larger set is a warning, "These walls and roof shall stand." written in infernal.
The smaller set, a taunt, something to the tune of "you are not welcome" but much MUCH more obscene, written in abyssal.
And You know for certain that its definitely not cow skin.
Grahl arrives as Arban and Onyx are speaking.
He is a half orc with the frame of a muscular human but his face clearly shows that he has orc blood running through his vains. His hair tied together in short ponytail to keep it out of his face if he would move wildly. His appearance a bit gruff and unshaven. His face and body still halfcovered in a red warpaint, some of it rubbed off already. On his body he does not even wear a shirt, only a leather strap from the left side of his belt crossing over to his right shoulder still showing the blade of a large axe on his back and the tip of a spear peeking out on the left side of his waist. His pants a simple leather with simple shoes beneath it.
After Arbon is done speaking Grahl replies to his words Protector, hmm Grahl protector too. He says with a grin. Dead enemy no attack. Best protection hehe. he cuckles
Grahl is late, was .. delayed. He looks down to his belt as he says this. On his belt he has a few small bags but hanging from his belt is a small string. The string loops through his belt and a pair of pointy ears that dangle in the air as he walks.
Chazrael arrives as the others are speaking. He is a stout halfling donned in leathers with a shortbow and arrow-filled quiver over his shoulders. His blue eyes glance between everyone as he twitches his brown moustache, which matches his high-and-tight haircut. "Gentleman, I am Chazrael. You don't need to know my last name. I look forward to killing stuff with you."
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
"Hmm," smiled Onyx as he appraised the newcomers. "I think I like our odds. Greetings, fellows; I am Onyx."
Glancing at the somewhat-gaudy large gold ring on his right index finger, he quickly continued, "I admit, it may seem a strange name, but my patron bestowed it on me, and I'm obligated to use it. At least on official business." Another smile gave the impression he wasn't exactly disappointed in the alias.
He then thumbed toward the tiefling. "This one doesn't speak much. Haven't got his name yet." Turning to address Marchosias, he asked, "So, saw you examining those runes pretty closely. They say anything interesting?"
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf
"Go screw yourself you filthy son of a eight legged two headed mistake."
Marchosias growls to Onyx, his voice surprisingly smooth despite his haggard appearance. The tiefling is a young man, clean, but haggard-looking. His face is gaunt, his clothes simple and showing a little bit of wear. His face bears a full beard, pointed and once well-kept but now starting to look a little rough as well. His only combat equipment appears to be some leather armor, a tarnished rapier, and a crossbow.
"That is more or less what they say. But sure, ask the tiefling what the demon runes say. Of course he can read demon. The name is Marchosias, or Marquis if you're lazy. I am a warrior, of sorts."
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
"True, my barbaric friend. A dead enemy is definitely the best, however I've found from experience that some don't fall so quick. But I look forward to fighting at your side though," Arbon looks at the ears dangling at his belt, "Perhaps we can add to your gruesome collection of trophies haha."
Arbon turns to Chazrael. "Short and to the point, both in nature and stature." Arbon lets out another laugh then stops suddenly, "Apologies if I've caused offence halfling. I'm keen to see how sharp you are with that bow. Welcome."
"Haha you are a funny one Marchosias." Arbon pauses for a moment, a concerned expression crossing his face, "I hope I said that right. I look forward to seeing how you handle that crossbow and your needle of a sword."
The hunter walks back adjusting his belt and looks you all over,
"My my, been a day and a half since the circus came to town. How did you all show up here in the time it took me to take a leak?"
He chuckles and waves off the flurry of pending responses,
"I'm just yanking your chain, c'mon, let's go."
He grabs a handful of the stacked metal and a strange dark brown wooden stick with silver inlay, stuffing the chunks in his pocket. He waves to his dog who stayed inside then walks across the street.
There's a vendor trying to looking busy. The last in the line of tailors, cooks and the like, hes a little out of place considering the distance. The market isn't too far, but its a decent walk form the next merchant.
He's a gnome, a wirey black haired individual with beady green eyes. He's suspicious of the hunter and backs away from his stall into the wall behind him in fear. The hunter walks behind the small wooden counter filled with various trinkets and metalwork.
"You know, why even bother? You'd think you'd get tired."
The gnome tries to spit at him, and the hunter kicks him hard across the face spitting blood into the dirty road a second later.
The gnome looks back in firey rage and curses at him in abyssal,
"Rbisywbgso---!!"
An explosive blast leaves the silver stick and the small copycat demon becomes a smear.
Onyx's eyes widened as he let out a low whistle, folding his hands in front of him, his quarterstaff in the crook of his elbow, as he rolled onto the heels of his feet for a second. "So it's going to be THAT kind of mission, eh?"
For whatever reason, he then whipped out a piece of parchment and jotted down some sort of note, before waving the paper dry and stuffing it back into his cloak pocket.
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf
Chazrael chuckles some more. "No offense taken. Also if someone needs to read demonic runes or language, I too can speak abyssal." He stops at the gnome's cursing. "That poor kitty."
I have an intelligence of six, I know what I'm doing.
Marchosias arches an eyebrow at the sudden violence. It was such a humble disguise - a random individual doing unassuming work. Why would a demon pretend to be such a wretched creature instead of something in power, something more likable?
He didn't understand the chaotic creatures. There was little reason to their actions.
Almost instinctively, he kneels in the dusty road and swipes a finger through the demon residue. Sticking his finger in his mouth, he grimaces. Its bitter, smoky, and probably toxic . . . but there's a part of him that could get used to the taste. He looks up at the others expectantly - there seemed to be much more work to do.
Attending Academy until November, slowdown in posts continue.
Responding to Arbon Ears not trophy! Ears.. As he intends to explain the hunter approaches and begins to speak so Grahl stops to try and hear why they have come.
He crosses his arms in front of him as the hunter walks to the merchant. Wondering why a warrior such as Grahl would be summoned if his troubles are with mere merchants.
Watching the display and seeing the creature (i assume) change back to its demon form on death for at least the parts that remain. A shocked expression comes over Grahls face as he has not seen shapechangers before.
He will follow Marchosias as he goes to taste the residue. Having made a long journey without having had time to eat Grahl has become hungry so he shrugs at the sight and assumes the creature can be eaten. The goo and bodyparts remaining remind him of spider soup an old friend used to make. His mouth waters at the idea. When Marchosias looks back at us Grahl assumes it an invitation to come and try and he steps forward doing the same as Marchosias crouching and tasting a finger swipe from the residue.
He quickly gets up and spits on the ground next to him Bah! This bad taste. He looks angry at Marchosias then turns to walk a few steps away again while grunting and mumbling Tiefling not know good food.
Calming down again after a few moments he looks to the hunter. Why you summon us? This creature not strong. Not realising the creature was probably a spy of sorts for a greater foe.
Onyx watched with fascination as Marchosias, then Grahl tasted the remains of the demon. He cocked his head curiously when Grahl declared it unfit to eat, then suddenly leaned on his quarterstaff, looked down and held his chin in his hand, as if thinking something over. Apparently unable to come to a quick conclusion, he shrugged to himself, then turned to the hunter as Grahl addressed him. This time both hands held onto his simply-carved staff as he leaned lightly on it, awaiting a response.
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf
The hunter looks at you all in genuine amazement,
"Even for me, that's a new one. Around here, I wouldn't recommend eating anything that doesn't grow in the dirt, and even then I'd wash it twice."
He walks through the puddle, passed his cottage, and onto the trail leading out of town. He motions for you to follow and assuming you do, he walks off without turning around.
Looking around, there's a dead demon, useless trinkets, shady vendors, a sleeping dog, and, an unwelcoming house with obscene metal graffiti, tacky metal wind chimes and no windows.
"What a place to be, just another day in heaven."
The hunter raises his hands yelling from the trail once again without turning around.
Without thinking much of it, the warlock simply smiles and asks, "Shall we?" as he follows after the hunter, using his quarterstaff as a walking stick.
Whistler
Titus - V. Human Battle Master Fighter 3 - [Pic] - [Pic2] - [Traits] - in Shadowglass
Locke - V. Human Shadow Monk 3 / Undead Warlock 2 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in FOW - DMless West Marches
Flèche - V. Human Swords Bard 10 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in The Scarlet Mist
Sterling - V. Human Bard 1 - [Pic] - [Traits] - in Bards: Dragon Heist
>> New FOW threat & treasure tables: fow-advanced-threat-tables.pdf fow-advanced-treasure-table.pdf